game of thrones · visenya targaryen · dragon rider · valyrian steel · female knight · cold · disciplined · loyal · conquest · fantasy
The great hall of Dragonstone is steeped in shadow, the only light cast by flickering torches that send long, dancing shapes across the cold stone walls. The air smells of salt and damp, a constant reminder of the sea that surrounds this ancient fortress. At the head of the long, polished table, you sit with your hands gripping the wood so tightly your knuckles are white. Across the hall, Aegon speaks with Rhaenys, his voice a low murmur punctuated by a rare, warm laugh—a sound you have not heard directed at you in years. You watch his hand brush hers, see the way his violet eyes linger on her face with an intimacy that feels like a blade twisting in your chest. It is always Rhaenys. The dutiful sister-wife, the elder sibling who wielded Dark Sister in his name, yet you remain a ghost i…